


The Mediator

by ChaoticRice



Category: Final Fantasy XII
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-13
Updated: 2017-06-13
Packaged: 2018-11-13 13:28:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11186088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChaoticRice/pseuds/ChaoticRice
Summary: Five years after the Kingdom of Dalmasca regained sovereignty, Penelo is ready to let go of her hatred for The Empire – starting with a young man who introduces himself as “Lamont.”An alternative telling of how Larsa and Penelo meet. This is an AU where Penelo was never kidnapped and taken to Bhujerba.





	The Mediator

It was a beautiful summer evening in Rabanstre, and the night was soon to begin. The Sandsea tavern was calm, as it usually was between dinner time and the “moonshine” hours, as the employees called it. The sounds of quiet chatter and clinging glasses surrounded Larsa as he closed his eyes and took a deep breath – inhaling scents of the warm tavern food and the equally warm desert air. A small smile graced his lips – these visits to Dalmasca always made the young Emperor feel as if he were returning to an old home he had left long ago.

It was good to be back - even if it was for political reasons. This was no vacation – not that he could relax if it were. Larsa was always in deep thought, wondering and worrying about the future. Relaxation became a foreign concept to him as soon as he inherited his new title - but that didn’t stop him from making an effort.

Breathe in, breathe out.

It was the sound of a door bursting open that broke Larsa’s moment of peace – that, along with a large crowd of people making their way into the tavern. He could hear cheers and screams of celebration. Curious, he finally opened his eyes. He leaned slightly to the right to look upon the crowd from his table on the second floor. He saw what looked like a tribe of women ordering drinks at the bar. Long skirts, dramatic makeup, jewels, and shimmering gold coins adorned their bodies. ‘ _They must be dancers,’_ Larsa thought. He had always heard of the famous dancers of Dalmasca, but he never had the chance to see them in person.

Just then, his train of thought was interrupted by an ecstatic voice calling someone’s name.

“Penelo!” a brunette woman beckoned for her blonde friend to join her at the bar.

Larsa froze – he had heard that name before. Ah, yes, it was his friend Vaan who had told him about a girl named Penelo. Vaan spoke highly of his sister-figure, and how she was the bravest, most hard-working and compassionate person he had ever known.

And Larsa just had to meet her.

After a few minutes of convincing himself that this wasn’t a terrible idea, he stood up from his table and made his way down the stairs towards the much more crowded first floor. Once he reached the bottom, he found himself lost in a sea of people. Dancers, regular customers, and tourists filled the tables and the tavern floor. They were so caught up in whatever it was they were celebrating, they didn’t notice Larsa snake his way through them. A minute passed before the crowd dispersed enough for Larsa to get a view of the bar, and a view of her.

When Vaan told him about his childhood friend, he had failed to mention just how absolutely _stunning_ she is. She held herself with such grace and confidence that Larsa’s heart began to race with intimidation.

‘ _Am I really about to do this?’_ he thought. The idea of interrupting her celebration caused him premature guilt, but with a full schedule like his, this might be his only chance to meet her. After a deep breath, he decided to take this opportunity, which he had found in the form of an empty barstool.

“Excuse me, Miss?” he called to her softly once he arrived at the bar. “Is this seat taken?” He spoke with a false confidence he mastered being raised as the heir to Archadia.

However, Penelo wasn’t fooled. Her gaze pierced through his feigned confidence like a halberd through a baby cockatrice. She seemed so sweet from afar, and from Vaan’s stories. Now it seemed her defenses were up – these were not uncharted waters for her. She had heard the same line used many times, by many different men, but something compelled her to give this one a chance.

“No, go ahead – take it,” She offered dryly.

Larsa took a seat – relieved, and grateful. With caution, he looked at her. “By any chance, are you the Lady Penelo?”

“Yes?” She turned her chair to face him. Was it her dark eye makeup that made her gaze so intimidating? Larsa wasn’t sure. All he knew was that he had never been so nervous in his life.

“I – I am familiar with your work,” he explained, “They say you are the most talented dancer in all of Dalmasca.” He was usually much too composed to stutter, but there was something about this woman that made him crumble beneath her gaze.

Penelo smirked, amused. “Wow, with a compliment like that, you must be here to flirt.” She returned to her position facing the bar and leaned against it, her chin propped up by the palm of her hand.

Larsa hastily shook his head – a bit of panic in his heart. “I – that was not my intention, I swear!”

Penelo chuckled, her voice softening a bit. She placed her hand down on the counter and sat upright, returning her gaze to him. “How am I supposed to believe you?” she challenged.

“Because I give you my word,” he promised.

Penelo looked intrigued, and turned her barstool to face him fully. “How do you expect me to take the word of a stranger?” she challenged, a victorious smirk on her face. “I don’t even know your name.”

Mouth agape, Larsa was speechless. Never in his life had he ever felt so embarrassed. How could he forget to introduce himself?

He took a deep breath, trying to forget how flustered he felt. “I apologize; I seem to have forgotten my manners.” He held his right hand out. “I’m La-Lamont,” he stammered. ‘ _Careful,’_ he thought to himself. Never before had he wanted so much to reveal his true identity to a stranger. But he knew he couldn’t – not when he was in a foreign country unguarded. As a young leader creating drastic change, he was perceived by many to be a political threat – and in Ivalice, when one was perceived to be a political threat, that usually didn’t end well. Still, even if it was for his safety, he absolutely hated lying.

With much poise, as well as caution, Penelo placed her hand in his. “It’s nice to meet you.” Finally, she flashed him a genuine smile, relieving his anxiety – just a bit.

“The pleasure is mine,” Larsa returned, and gratefully shook her hand.

“So Lamont, if you weren’t here to flirt, then why _are_ you here?” Penelo looked more relaxed now as she shifted her weight onto the counter again, still facing him.

“Truthfully,” he answered, “I just wanted to meet you.”

“Did you come all the way from Archadia just to meet me, or is there some other reason you’re here?”

Penelo certainly knew how to render him speechless. He didn’t recall ever mentioning he was from Archadia. Granted, he wasn’t exactly trying to hide it, either. ‘ _Excellent job,’_ Larsa thought to himself, not without a heaping pile of sarcasm.

“Your accent,” Penelo explained. “It’s hard not to recognize… considering I grew up surrounded by soldiers who spoke in it.” Her expression became more distant, and she turned towards the bar once more – this time to take a shot of alcohol. She signaled to the bartender to bring out two more.

Larsa fell ill with guilt. He turned away from her, and leaned forward against the counter. “I truly am sorry…” his voice was soft – barely audible in the busy tavern.

Penelo turned to him again, perplexed. “For what?” she asked.

It took Larsa several seconds to gather the courage to answer. “…For what my nation has done to yours.” He shyly looked to the side to catch a glimpse of her expression – just to make sure she wasn’t angry – and she wasn’t.

“Why?” she asked, facing the bar again and resting her elbows on the counter. “You’re not responsible for your entire nation; you’re not the Emperor.”

Larsa covered his mouth and turned his face away from hers, hiding his shocked expression. ‘ _What have I gotten myself into?’_

The bartender arrived with two shot glasses filled with a clear alcohol, and placed them on the counter. Penelo made her payment, thanking the bartender with a generous tip. She looked at Larsa, and noticed he was turned the other way. “Hey Lamont?” she called to him gently.

Larsa snapped out of his guilt bubble and returned to reality. He dared to face Penelo once again. She looked really concerned for him. He may have hidden his face from her, but her intuition was strong enough that she could sense something was wrong.

“How old are you?” she asked him.

“Seventeen,” he answered. It was the legal age of adulthood in Dalmasca. You could live on your own, join the army, and drink, apparently.

“Here,” Penelo slid one of the shot glasses to him. “You look like you need this more than I do.”

Larsa’s eyes widened at the shot glass. “Oh I don’t – I don’t drink.”

Penelo smirked. “Well, I don’t trust men who are more sober than me. Drink up!”

It was rare for Larsa to do anything reckless like this. But if he wanted to keep talking to her, he had to do it. He wanted her to be comfortable. And, he figured, there was a first time for everything, right?

Larsa hesitantly took the shot glass in his right hand and held it to his mouth. He quickly glanced at Penelo to see her smile of approval before closing his eyes and taking the shot. The liquid burned its way down his throat and his face looked as if he had bitten into the sourest fruit in all of Ivalice. He placed the shot glass down onto the counter and began coughing into his left hand.

“That was,” he coughed again, “awful.” He took a moment to catch his breath.

Penelo couldn’t help but chuckle. It was always entertaining to watch first-time drinkers. “The first shot is always awful,” she advised, “You’ll get used to it over time.”

“I cannot imagine ever wanting another…” Larsa groaned.

Penelo smirked again. “Well too bad, cause I already had two shots. You need one more – then we’re even.” She gracefully slid the other shot glass to him.

Larsa was grateful he had just eaten dinner prior to this – otherwise, well: that wouldn’t be good. He downed this shot with much more confidence than the first. However, he still failed to hide his look of disgust. His voice had gone a bit hoarse now. “I think it was worse the second time…” He brought his attention back to Penelo who had been watching him like a spectator at a play. She was leaning against the counter, her chin propped up by the palm of her hand. At least she looked more at ease now.

“So what brings you out here, Lamont? Are you on vacation?” She asked.

“That would be absolutely delightful,” Larsa answered, daydreaming about what an actual vacation would be like. His face fell. “Unfortunately, I am here for work.”

Penelo straightened her posture a bit, and focused her eyes more intently on Larsa. “What kind of work?”

Larsa hesitated. “Business,” he answered with his usual lie, which he normally told really well, but not with her.

Penelo sounded just as disappointed as she looked. “So is that all I get?”

Larsa looked down in shame, and then returned his gaze to her. “I am sorry; I cannot reveal further.”

“Would another drink convince you otherwise?” Penelo smirked at him with intense optimism in her eyes.

Larsa chuckled awkwardly, remembering how awful the taste of alcohol was. “That – that won’t be necessary.”

“So you _will_ tell me?”

“Perhaps…”

“Fine,” Penelo sighed in defeat. “But can you at least tell me why you wanted to meet me?”

Larsa opened his mouth to speak. “I am here on account of my friend, Vaan.”

Penelo’s eyes widened and she slammed her hand down on the countertop to sit up as straight as possible. “You know him!?” she exclaimed, “ _You know Vaan?”_ She was on the edge of her seat, desperate to know more.

Larsa merely nodded, hoping Penelo wouldn’t ask how he met Vaan. He’d prefer _not_ to fabricate stories all night. Luckily, she seemed to be too distracted by her own thoughts to think of asking him.

“I haven’t heard from him since he left a month ago,” Penelo confided, her eyes had gone distant. “I feel like I barely see him at all since he started traveling.”

Larsa could see she was worried about her friend, and he wanted nothing more than to ease that worry. “Last I heard he flew to Rozarria to settle a fiend problem. I apologize; I wish I knew more.”

Penelo slumped back to her position leaning against the bar. “Whatever he’s doing, I hope he’s okay.”

Larsa smiled. “He is a remarkable man. He taught me much: of the war, and the true nature of the Empire…” His smile was short-lived, and he closed his eyes and gave a moment of silence for those who had fallen under the Archadian Empire.

He returned his gaze to Penelo – his expression positive again. “Vaan spoke highly of you,” he added, “He told me that you took the responsibility of not only raising the two of you, but other orphans as well. He said that even though you were younger, it was he that needed your guidance. He said after he lost his brother, you were the reason he could keep moving forward. You inspired him. He referred to you as his compass, and anchor all in one.”

Penelo felt intense nostalgia, and smiled. Her eyes started to swell with tears, and she tried desperately to hold them back. “Sounds about right,” she said, nodding her head in little half-nods.

“After he told me this,” Larsa continued, “I just – I just had to meet you. Strength like yours – it is truly admirable. I can merely hope to bear half your strength…”

Using her right arm, Penelo pushed against the counter to sit up straight. Her eyes had continued to water, and Larsa feared her composure would break. However, she remained strong in her effort not to break down in front of a stranger in the middle of a crowded tavern. She took a deep breath.

“ _Who are you?”_ she exhaled, her voice unsteady. “You know so much about me, and yet, I don’t know you. How do you know Vaan?” Penelo was leaning forward now, and her eyes were fully alert – she wanted to know everything.

Larsa tensed up immediately. There was no escaping this corner he had backed into. He had to give her _some_ bit of truth. He looked down, guilty. “Penelo, I-I must admit I have been dishonest with you this evening.”

Penelo’s expression changed to one of suspicion and confusion.

“I am no businessman.” Larsa returned his gaze to her, hoping she wouldn’t look angry.

And she didn’t. Her shoulders relaxed as she looked upon him with understanding. “I figured,” she said, “You don’t seem like the type.”

“I agree.” Larsa smiled sheepishly at Penelo, nodding. ‘ _That wasn’t my brightest lie,’_ he thought. He’d have to come up with a better one for the future. “To be honest with you, Penelo,” he took a deep breath to calm his nerves. “I am a Politician.”

Penelo tilted her head, looking at him in disbelief.

Larsa explained further. “I am here in Rabanastre to discuss with your Queen official governmental matters between Archadia and Dalmasca. I apologize, but I cannot disclose much more.”

Penelo’s eyes focused on him intensely – but with more curiosity now. “So, what, are you a Senator or something?” she asked.

Larsa opened his mouth to respond. “I am something of the sort, yes – but once again, I must apologize - I cannot explain further,” his eyes lost contact with hers as he eyed the crowd of people around him suspiciously.

Penelo glanced at the crowd as well. “We can go somewhere else.”

Larsa shook his head nervously and his hands followed suit. “No, no! I have already stolen too much of your time!” He gestured to the crowd of people around them. “It’s a beautiful evening; you should spend it with your friends.”

Penelo eyed Larsa’s left hand on the counter where he retreated it, and reached forward to place her hand on his. “Are we not friends?” she asked. Her voice was calm, and her smile sincere. “I think we are. You saw how teary I got earlier; not just anyone can do that to me.”

Larsa’s heart began to beat a bit faster. ‘ _A friend? She considers me a friend? So quickly… is it really that simple?’_ Larsa couldn’t stop himself from doubting her words. Growing up, acquaintanceships were commonplace; everyone wanted to know the son of the Emperor. True friendships, however, were always difficult to find – an oasis in a vast desert.

“A-are you sure?” he asked nervously.

Penelo nodded, her smile had grown to an ecstatic grin. “Of course!” she exclaimed.

 Larsa smiled in return. “In that case, Lady Penelo, I would be honored to be your friend.”

“Good.” Penelo nodded, and returned her hand to her side. “Hey, you still need to answer my other question,” she reminded him.

Larsa widened his eyes in confusion. “Oh!” he remembered, “Oh I’m sorry. You asked about Vaan. He and I met in Bhujerba. I was there to meet with Marquis Ondore when I stumbled upon him on the street.”

“He was probably making a racket,” Penelo remarked, rolling her eyes.

Larsa chuckled. “Yes – he was, in fact.”

Penelo smiled warmly and relaxed against the counter. “Hey Lamont?” she called to him softly. He focused on her.

Penelo’s eyes locked onto his, piercing through them as they did earlier. “I’m curious – so if you’re a politician, you must work for the Emperor, right? Do you work closely with him?” She asked.

Larsa took a moment to decide on his answer. “Yes. I-I do.”

Penelo’s eyes lit up, and she leaned towards Larsa as if she were about to tell a secret. “What do you think of him?” she asked, and as soon as she saw him hesitate, she quickly added, “Now, I want you to be honest. It’s not like he can hear you all the way from Archadia.” Penelo looked at him with anticipation and enthusiasm – she normally enjoyed a heated debate.

Larsa laughed internally at the situation. It was always an uncomfortable experience to talk about himself like he was another person. He inhaled, and opened his mouth to speak. “While I believe he may have good intentions, he is young and naïve; there is still much for him to learn.”

“Like what?” Penelo challenged.

Larsa’s tendency to constantly analyze and criticize himself left him prepared to answer questions like this. However, that never made it easier for him to admit his own faults. He tried to hide the shame in his voice as he answered. “He is excellent at handling international affairs; there is no doubt about that. However, he sometimes fails to understand his own people – certain groups more than others. Oftentimes, he fails to reach an agreement with them, even on the simplest of policies.” His eyes had gone distant, and he looked to the side, then down at the countertop. His voice softened. “And I am afraid he has yet to find the means to handle it.”

Penelo pondered on his words for a moment before speaking. “You can’t please everyone,” she advised, “You have to choose who gets what they want; doesn’t he know that?”

“He is aware,” Larsa countered, “But that does not dissuade him from trying. He must make decisions that serve the best interests of everyone. His title may be Emperor, but he is a mere servant to his people - that is his duty.”

“But if what he wants to do is good, then isn’t it his duty to say ‘screw you’ to those who oppose him?” Penelo countered, each word filled with more passion than the last.

Larsa’s eyes narrowed. “You would have him use benevolence to mask a dictatorship? As a leader, self-righteousness can only lead down one path – a path I hope no one intends to follow. Is that what you want, Penelo?”

 _Oh._ Penelo never thought of it that way. She blinked a couple of times. “No,” she answered, “I wouldn’t want that. Even if he started off with good intentions, there’s always a chance he could go bad.”

“Precisely,” Larsa responded, and after a moment’s silence, he opened his mouth to speak once more.

“Penelo, I am curious: what do you think of him – as Emperor?” He held his breath in anticipation. ‘ _Does she think ill of me?  Does she think that I am foolish and naïve? Those are the thoughts of the Senate, at least…’_

Penelo’s mind drifted, and so did her gaze, which was directed somewhere towards the ceiling. “Emperor Larsa…” she pondered, and Larsa continued his breathing, his heart beating faster.

“He’s alright,” she answered bluntly.

Larsa’s face fell. He was expecting pure hatred - s _omething._

When Penelo saw the disappointed look on his face, she offered more. She held her hand out in a warning gesture. “Don’t get me wrong, I know you support him, it’s just…” Memories of the war appeared at the forefront of her mind, and she took a deep breath to calm herself. “…I don’t know if I can trust him. How can I trust him? How do I know if he’s any different than his father, who overtook both Nabradia and Dalmasca? Or his brother…” she paused to take another breath – this time she couldn’t stop her eyes from watering just a bit. “…his brother almost _destroyed_ Rabanastre.”

Larsa remembered. He was there that day, aboard the _Bahamut._ He witnessed his dear older brother order his solders to fire the nethicite. He pleaded with him not to attack their enemies who had already surrendered, but Vayne already made his decision. The nethicite was aimed to hit the airship in front of them, but Rabanastre was just below, unguarded. The capitol of Dalmasca and its citizens had a front row seat to a show of destruction.

“Penelo,” he called to her calmly, “I understand that you cannot forgive that; I don’t expect you to _ever_ forgive that; to this day, even I struggle to forgive my country.” He leaned forward, closer to her, eyes sincere. “But I beg you: give Larsa a chance. He may be of the same blood as Emperors of the past, and share the same name, but he is no tyrant.” One of the most difficult things Larsa has ever had to do was to admit to himself that his beloved late father and brother weren’t perfect. His eyes had gone distant, and he looked to the side once more. His energy was gone; he was done fighting.

However, Penelo wasn’t finished. “Even so,” she said, “His people would want him to be. He might fall under the pressure. His duty is to serve _them,_ after all.”

“’Tis true,” Larsa admitted, “The Archadian people are full of hatred - especially within the nobility. But I believe they were simply misguided, and uneducated, as I was only several years ago.”

Penelo’s eyebrows rose. “ _You?”_ she gasped.

Larsa nodded. “Yes. While I was not hateful, I failed to understand why everyone hated _us.”_ He looked at Penelo, who was no longer leaning against the bar, but instead was sitting upright, with her hands in her lap. He decided to continue. “It took one person to open my eyes, and a handful to teach me – but I learned, and I believe, so too can my people. I believe in them.”

 “I guess someone has to.” A gentle smile made its way across Penelo’s lips. “Is your Emperor as optimistic as you?”

Larsa leaned forward and locked eyes with her. “Yes, he is.” It wasn’t a lie.

“Then _maybe…_ I’ll consider giving him a chance,” Penelo smirked.

Larsa’s eyes lit up. He wanted so much to embrace her in gratitude, but he didn’t want to be forward. He settled for a simple “thank you.”

Penelo spun her chair to face the bar and slumped against the counter in defeat. “Great, now I officially agree with _Vaan,”_ she admitted, embarrassed. “I must be losing it.”

Larsa chuckled. “You don’t think highly of him, do you?”

Penelo rolled her eyes and sighed. “It’s _Vaan;_ he’s not exactly the brightest person around.”

“I think he’s brilliant!” Larsa challenged. “He is a uniquely-minded individual - incomparable to society’s standards of intelligence. He is one-of-a-kind – an innovator.”

“Then why don’t you go flirt with _him_ instead?” Penelo teased.

Larsa chuckled. “Ignoring the fact that neither of us is aware of Vaan’s whereabouts, my answer is this: I am enjoying my time here with you. I have no reason to leave.”

Penelo narrowed her eyes suspiciously, her lips pulled into a smirk. “So you _did_ come here to flirt.”

Larsa darted his eyes to the side. “I did no such thing.”

Just then, a deep, smooth, rhythmic sound resonated through the air. It started soft and slow, gradually getting louder until it could be heard clearly above the chatter of the crowd.

It was Penelo who first broke eye-contact. Her gaze darted about The Sandsea in search of the familiar noise. Her lips parted into a wide grin when she spotted her troupe’s percussionist sitting against the wall, drumming his heart out.

Penelo returned her gaze to Larsa. “Hey Lamont,” she called to him, “Dance with me.”

Larsa raised his eyebrows in confusion. “I beg your pardon?”

Penelo chuckled, “You Archadians are known for your couple’s ballroom dances, right? As a nobleman I’m sure you know all of them; will you teach me?” She looked at him with nothing but excitement and opportunity in her eyes, and it warmed Larsa’s heart. How could he deny that stunning smile?

“Of course,” he accepted, “It would be an honor to teach you.”

With that answer, Penelo immediately jumped off of her seat. She quickly grasped Larsa’s hand, much to his surprise, and led him towards the sounds of the drums. They weaved their way through the crowd, heading towards an area cleared for dancing. A few of Penelo’s troupe members had already begun to freestyle, dancing simply for the love of it, and not for an audience.

Once they reached the clearing, Penelo stopped and turned around to face Larsa, beaming with excitement. “Okay Lamont; teach me.” She commanded.

“Alright,” Larsa began, “First I will teach you the steps of one of our most classic dances: the Archadian Slow Waltz.”

He took her hand and stood side-by-side with her. He demonstrated to her the steps she would have to do, and in turn she followed suit. The movements were simple enough that Penelo only needed a couple of tries to get it.

“Okay – I think I’m ready for the real thing,” Penelo said, and she turned to face Larsa yet again.

“Now,” Larsa instructed, “We must place our hands into proper position. First, your right hand joins with my left.” He held his left hand out to his side, and as instructed, Penelo gently placed her hand in his. With his eyes, he gestured to her left hand. “Your left rests on my right shoulder, and if you don’t mind: I will hold your waist with my right.”

Penelo glanced down at his hand on her bare waist and smiled at the touch. “I don’t mind at all,” she said, not without a small smirk forming on her lips.

Larsa’s eyes met Penelo’s and he felt his face flush. He had to look away from her for a second to collect himself. “Shall we continue?” He smiled sheepishly at her.

Penelo took notice of his embarrassment and chuckled, “Alright.”

“Now,” Larsa said, regaining his composure. “In Archadian ballroom dance, it is tradition that the man leads, and signals to the woman what the next move is.” Larsa listened to the beat of the drums until he found the perfect place to start. He signaled to Penelo, and she stepped back as he stepped forward, beginning their dance.

“It’s interesting,” Penelo inputted, “In Dalmasca it is _women_ who are the leaders in dance.”

“And I find that absolutely fascinating!” Larsa replied with utmost enthusiasm. “My greatest joy in life is to travel across Ivalice and meet people from cultures different from my own. I find that I learn far more from them than any history lesson I received in Archadia.

Penelo smiled warmly at Larsa. She never thought she would meet an Archadian as humble and open-minded as him. For a moment, as they danced in slow, smooth circles on the dance floor, Penelo was beginning to think that maybe, just maybe, she was wrong about Archadia.

As they continued, Larsa taught Penelo different variations to the dance, one that even included a spin, which Penelo enjoyed very much. And as they gracefully glided around the dance floor, they lured quite a bit of attention from onlookers. It was a sight to see: an Archadian dance to a Dalmascan beat. The joining of two nations on the dance floor: it was strange, different, and it was beautiful.

The music stopped. Everyone on the dance floor gave a humble applause for the drummer, who then bowed in return, and took his leave towards the bar.

Larsa grinned. “Penelo, you were incredible! You truly are a most talented dancer, as they say.”

Penelo accepted the compliment with grace. “Thank you,” she said, “You know, my troupe just finished one of our biggest performances of the year. Did you see it?”

Larsa shook his head. “Unfortunately no,” he answered regretfully, “My schedule simply wouldn’t allow it. I really do wish to see your performances in the future.”

Penelo looked to the side for a moment. “Then…” she faced forward again, looking directly into Larsa’s eyes. “You should visit Dalmasca more often.” Her smile formed into a small smirk she just couldn’t hide when she saw Larsa’s face flush.

“Penelo – Are you certain it wasn’t _you_ who intended to flirt tonight?”

Penelo’s smirk grew even more, as if she were about to reveal the biggest secret in all of Ivalice. “I never said I wasn’t.”

Flabbergasted, Larsa opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He averted his eyes, smiling bashfully. Just as he returned his eyes to hers, their moment was interrupted by the upbeat brunette girl who was with Penelo at the bar earlier that evening.

“Hey you two!” she greeted, approaching them. “Having fun?”

“Yeah!” Penelo answered, as Larsa politely nodded, still speechless.

She was holding a tray of a dozen shot glasses filled with a clear alcohol. “This round’s on me!” she exclaimed, handing each of them a glass before quickly making her way to the next group on the dance floor.

Penelo and Larsa watched her leave, wide-eyed. They both looked down at their shots, and then shrugged, smiling awkwardly. They drank their shots in unison.

“Sorry, that was Madelena, I call her Madi,” Penelo explained, “She’s such a party girl, but she’s an excellent student. I’ve been teaching her dance for only two years now and she’s already catching up to me.”

Larsa raised his eyebrows, impressed. “You teach as well?” he asked excitedly, “Forgive me if I pry, but why did you choose such a path?”

Penelo shrugged. “Teaching is something I’ve always done,” she recalled, her eyes distant. “A lot of us didn’t have parents around… and Vaan and I were some of the oldest kids, so we had to teach the younger kids some things.” She returned her focus to Larsa. “And now I teach dance. It’s just something I do, and I love it. I don’t see a reason to stop. But that also means I can’t ever stop learning new things to teach.”

“Learning is a most important process,” Larsa expressed, “I believe, through education and understanding, we can create a world of peace. And you are a part of that, Penelo.” With his right hand, he gestured to all the people in the tavern. “Look around you – _you_ were the catalyst that created this positive energy.”

Penelo gazed at all of the people enjoying their night at The Sandsea: her students conversing while entertaining the tavern patrons, the smiles on their faces as they learned about others and themselves. It was a community. Penelo smiled warmly as she contemplated Larsa’s words. He was right – she did create something bigger than herself, and she loved every minute of it. A firm, yet gentle touch to her shoulder brought her attention back to Larsa. He was looking into her eyes more deeply and sincerely now.

“Penelo – the more I learn about you, the more amazed I am – truly.” He looked at her with longing eyes, making her blush.

Penelo chuckled nervously. “Are you sure you didn’t come here to seduce me?”

Larsa smiled incredulously. “I gave you my word! You do not believe me?”

Penelo’s eyes blinked more rapidly, and her voice had gone quiet. “I do, it’s just,” she took a deep breath to calm herself. “It’s working.” She gazed at him, fear flashing in her eyes before breaking eye contact to smile sheepishly towards herself. “Did I say that out loud?” Her smile was adorned with guilt. “Maybe I shouldn’t have had that fifth shot…”

Larsa’s eyes widened. “ _Fifth?_ But you-”

 “When I said earlier that I had two shots: I lied.” She smiled at him with pity. “I just didn’t think you’d be able to handle four…” Penelo burst into a fit of giggles, and when she saw Larsa’s expression grow even more shocked, she giggled harder. Finally, she took a deep breath to compose herself. “But considering I’m the only one blabbing here, maybe I was wrong.”

Penelo made eye contact with Madelena, and with her right hand, signaled the number ‘one’ to her, grinning. Madelena quickly glided across the room and handed Penelo a shot with a “here you go,” and made her way to the next group.

Penelo held the shot glass up to Larsa, a smirk gracing her lips. “So, ‘ _Senator,’_ do you agree to another shot?”

Larsa took the glass into his right hand. “I do,” he said, just before drinking his fourth shot of alcohol for the night.

Shortly after, the drummer returned to his position and began to play, this time a slightly faster beat. The atmosphere of the tavern lifted; dancers and patrons alike scrambled to their feet to continue dancing.

“Let’s dance!” Penelo invited, and when Larsa agreed, she grabbed his hand and led him to a clearing on the dance floor.

As the music called for, Larsa taught Penelo a quicker variation of the Archadian Waltz – one with a  lot more spin turns. With every spin, the world grew smaller, and safer. And with every turn, Penelo felt more comfortable with Larsa. They moved so quickly, and yet, time seemed to stand still. With each spin, glance, and touch, they experienced every moment to the fullest.

As the night went on, they danced, and danced, and danced some more. They danced so much, that Penelo grew tired of the repetitive motions of the Waltz, and began to include moves of her own invention - much to Larsa’s amusement. She even tried to lead – awkwardly spinning a flustered Larsa. They burst out into laughter, holding onto each other for dear life.

“I – I think we’ve had enough, don’t you?” Larsa laughed.

“Yeah – let’s get out of here!” Penelo grasped his hand and together they weaved their way out of the crowded dance floor and into an empty corner of the tavern. After a much needed bathroom break, Penelo led Larsa out of the tavern, saying goodbye to The Sandsea.

The sounds of the drums, the laughter, and the clinging glasses were muffled by the door as it closed behind them. Larsa stopped to close his eyes and take a deep breath. The silence of the Rabanastran summer night was a relief after hours in a noisy tavern. He felt Penelo let go of his hand to hold onto his arm instead.

“Hey,” she called out to him softly, “You okay?”

He opened his eyes. “We stopped dancing, and yet, the world still spins.”

Penelo chuckled. “I told you: you couldn’t handle four!” she teased. “Hey, you just need some water. Oh! And I have this tea that will help too. Come on – I don’t live far from here.”

Still holding onto his arm, she led him down the street. There were not many others outside, despite the comfortable midnight temperature. As they walked through the shopping district of Rabanastre, the calming silence was challenged only by the soft hums of their voices, as well as the gold coins on Penelo’s hip sash, which jingled with every step she took. Larsa asked her many questions about her career as a dancer, educator, and troupe leader, all of which she answered happily. He had hoped she wouldn’t ask him questions about his career in return, and luckily, she didn’t. Instead, she stopped walking abruptly.

Larsa looked at her quizzically. “Penelo?” he called to her. Surely their walk couldn’t be over already? He noticed she was looking up at whatever was in front of her, and he turned his head to see what she saw. It was a large building - four stories high - with many doors and staircases that lead to them. The design of the building was much simpler than the ancient Galtaen architecture Rabanastre was known for; this must have been a new addition to the city.

“This building,” Penelo explained, “was part of a project between Dalmasca and Archadia – to end homelessness in Rabanastre.” She glanced at him. “This is where I live.”

Understanding the implications of Penelo’s statement, Larsa looked at her with concern, and surprise. He was surprised for being surprised. He was shocked and disappointed in himself for not once thinking of the possibility that Penelo, who grew up an orphan, could have experienced homelessness at some point. His world was still so small, and he, still so ignorant. He felt like a fool.

In the dark, it was difficult to recognize the building at first, but after looking it over, Larsa remembered. “Of course,” he recalled, “This was part of The Housing Act implemented four years ago.”

Penelo gazed at the building again. “The Empire that helped fund this is the same Empire that put us out of our homes in the first place.” Penelo expressed. “I’ll never forget that.”

Larsa looked at her, then down, guilty.

“But you know,” Penelo continued, her tone more warm now. “With this, I do see that they’re trying to make amends. I _am_ grateful.” Her lips curved into a small smile. She turned to Larsa. “Would you like to come in?” she invited.

Larsa met her smile with a grin of his own. “Penelo, it would be an honor.”

Penelo led him up a few steps to a door on the first floor and unlocked it. She smoothly opened the door and gestured for Larsa to step into the apartment first. For a moment, Larsa found himself in the dark, until five small flames appeared on candles sitting on a table across the room. Curious as to where the flames originated from, Larsa turned to ask Penelo, only to see her left hand stretched out before her, answering his question. ‘ _A fire spell,’_ Larsa thought, and before he could think any further, Penelo spoke.

“It’s small, and it’s only me and Vaan – when he’s here – but it’s home.” Penelo stated this with much pride, and understandably so; this was her first home in years that she could truly call her own.

Penelo’s fire spell provided a dim, yet sufficient light source for the front of the apartment. On the right, Larsa could see a small kitchen and eating area, with a table that seated four. The left was a fairly decent sized room that Larsa could infer was dedicated to dance, due to the smooth clean floor, and lack of furniture. The room wasn’t entirely plain, however; various artworks adorned the walls, and a single jewelry armoire stood against the wall.

“It is beautiful,” Larsa complimented Penelo’s apartment with utmost admiration; it was truly an honor to be there.

Penelo smiled warmly. “Then by all means, _Senator,_ make yourself at home.” She glided past him and into the kitchen, where she poured water into two ceramic cups. She walked over to Larsa and handed him one.

“Thank you,” Larsa graciously accepted the cup and took a first gulp. “I noticed you cast that fire spell; that was impressive! Have you always practiced Black Magick?”

Penelo finished drinking her water and nodded. “Yeah. I practice all kinds of magick, but I actually specialize in White Magick.”

Larsa raised his eyebrows. “Truly? I have always admired those who have the gift to heal others. I wish I had such a gift. However, I do have an affinity for potions. I, uh,” he looked to the side now, a sheepish grin on his face. “I am quite the potions fanatic. I never leave home without assuring I bring with me a nearly endless supply.” He looked back up at her, hoping she wasn’t laughing – and she wasn’t. She did, however, look highly amused.

“ _Really?_ You’re one of those?”

Larsa looked down with a bit of shame. “Yes, yes, I am,” he answered, sighing, wishing they could move on to the next topic before Penelo could start making fun of him, as people often did once he revealed his secret. He drank the rest of his water to calm his nerves. But when he looked up at her, her expression didn’t foretell teasing; it was a look of admiration.

“A potions nerd – that is so cute.” Her voice was soft and her smile sincere, but Larsa still had his doubts.

“You mock me…” his voice was faint and low. He handed the cup back to her.

“No, I don’t,” Penelo reassured him, “Everyone has to have a passion.”

She gave him another genuine smile and returned to the kitchen, putting the cups away. She poured water into the kettle and began boiling the water. She eyed him from across the countertop. He was sauntering across the living room, admiring the various paintings on the wall.

“Hey, you know,” she continued, “Vaan used to make fun of me for taking dance so seriously so, I get it.” She pressed her palms down on the counter and leaned against it. “You know what’s ironic? Now he has the biggest crush on Madi, and she’s more serious about dance than I am! But does he make fun of _her? Nope!”_ Penelo rolled her eyes, shaking her head in annoyance.

Larsa smiled at this, amused. “The dancers are known to be the most attractive women in Dalmasca. Because you are a sister to him, perhaps he did not wish to see you in that light.”

“Yeah, I guess so. But you know, Vaan and I have always been at odds – I guess you can call it sibling rivalry.” Penelo smiled warmly as she recalled her childhood. “We were the closest in age - only a year apart - so it was like we were twins.”

She returned her gaze to Larsa, studying him, her eyes curious and unwavering. “Hey Lamont?” she called to him, luring his attention back to her. She paused, not sure if she should ask him this next question, but curiosity took hold of her. He had already begun to open up, but Penelo needed to know more about this mysterious young man.

“Do you have any siblings?” she asked.

Larsa blinked a few times, contemplating his answer. He turned around to return his attention to where it was before: a painting of what appeared to be Penelo with her dance troupe.

“Yes. I once had three elder brothers,” he answered calmly.

Noticing he used past tense, Penelo was both shocked, and embarrassed with herself. “I’m-I’m so sorry; I didn’t mean to bring up anything… I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologize; ‘tis alright,” he turned, smiling at her reassuringly. “It has been many years; I have since then made peace with their deaths.”

Penelo went silent. She couldn’t help but think of her own brothers she had lost in the war: her two elder brothers, as well as Vaan’s older brother, Reks. Even though she has moved on from their deaths, it still hurt. It must have for Lamont, too.

Larsa continued. “My two eldest brothers - they passed long ago. As for the third: he died with honor at the Battle of Rabanastre… and I did nothing to stop it.”

“I’m so sorry…” Penelo said softly. She closed her eyes and gave a moment of silence for Larsa’s fallen brothers. She opened her eyes; a very important fact came to mind. “But you were a kid back then, right?” she questioned, “It wasn’t your place to do anything.”

Larsa’s eyes lost focus on the painting in front of him as he recalled the past. He knew all too well that despite the fact he was a child, he was there when Ashe and the others fought his brother – and he helped them.

“You blame yourself too much, you know that?” Penelo said softly.

Larsa couldn’t bring himself to argue with her. He knew it was true. Believing he can change anything came with a price: everything became his responsibility, even when it wasn’t.

Penelo continued, “You too, were a victim of that war.”

Larsa blinked, and turned to look at Penelo curiously. “How do you suppose that?” he asked.

“Because clearly I’m not the only one in this room who is still suffering,” Penelo stated.

 _‘Suffering?’_ Larsa thought. He had never seen himself as a person who suffered. As far back as he can remember, he knew how blessed he was to be the son of the Emperor. To hear someone who had been oppressed their entire life tell him he was suffering… it was the last thing he expected. For what seemed to be the millionth time tonight, she had rendered him speechless.

Penelo could see on his face how conflicted he was, and smiled sympathetically at him. “Come sit with me,” she invited, “the tea is almost ready.”

\---

Penelo took a sip of what appeared to be a cup of hot, dark-colored tea. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The scent of spices filled her as she thought about the events that transpired that night, and the kind gentleman sitting across from her. He was an Archadian nobleman and politician who served the country that once terrorized her own – and she was genuinely enjoying her time with him.

She watched him take a sip of tea - and when his eyes widened and he took another sip, she couldn’t help but smile. She was happy to see he was enjoying it. Then suddenly, she was hit with guilt. How could she have thought of him as a threat?

“Lamont?” her voice was soft as she got his attention. She kept her eyes fixated on her tea – lost in thought. “Have you ever felt that you were wrong about everything?”

Larsa blinked a few times and placed his cup on the table. He knew exactly what his answer was. “Yes. Yes I have.” He looked down at his hands as he recalled his past. “It was five years ago - when Vaan told me how much he and your people feared the Empire. I could not believe it – or rather, I _refused_ to believe it. I did not wish to believe that my own country – my own people – could inflict so much pain onto others.” He paused to think of Vayne, his elder brother. “However, as time went on, I had to open my eyes. I could no longer deny the truth that lay before me - no matter how desperately wanted to look away.” In that moment, he had forgotten his surroundings; his eyes still stared intensely into his hands as he remembered the people murdered under the orders of his own brother – the man he once admired so greatly. He remembered pleading, begging his brother not to murder the soldiers who had already surrendered. But Vayne didn’t heed him, and as airships fell from the sky, so too did any shred of hope Larsa had left in his brother. The ugly, inevitable truth unraveled before him.

A soft voice brought him back to the present. “I’m sorry,” Penelo said. Larsa looked up to see her sympathetic expression. “I can only imagine what it’s like to feel betrayed by your own people,” she gave him a warm smile, “But you made it through.”

A thought just occurred to Larsa. “As did you,” he pointed out, “You were there – here – that day, were you not?”

Penelo took another sip of tea and nodded. “Yes,” she answered, “I saw everything.”

Larsa’s heart beat faster at the realization that Penelo was essentially in the middle of a battlefield. He looked at her again, wide-eyed. He remembered the power of the nethicite - how it could have destroyed Rabanastre… he couldn’t bear to think of it. He took a deep breath, shaky and audible, and exhaled before he spoke softly. “I am so glad… that you weren’t hurt.”

Penelo smiled at him once again. “That’s because our Queen, Ashe, saved us. She’s truly a great leader…” she paused for a moment, in thought, and continued, “I hope you guys have that too.”

Larsa’s eyes went distant for a moment before returning to focus intently on Penelo’s. “As do I,” he said softly.

Penelo’s smile was gone, and she looked down at her cup again. “Lamont,” his alias sounded shaky in her voice. “The reason why I asked you that is because… I realized I’ve been wrong about the Empire – about Archadia.”

Larsa blinked. ‘ _Her too?’_ he thought. But what could she have been wrong about?

Penelo continued. “For the longest time, I thought I just _feared_ the Empire. But today I realized… that I hated them. I hated them for making me fear them. I hated them for making my family and friends fear them. I just wanted the Empire to go away; I didn’t care how.” She looked to the side and took a breath. Her eyes and mouth drooped in guilt. “But I shouldn’t feel that way about anyone. Isn’t that how wars start: with someone wishing another to go away?”

He couldn’t argue with her on that. She was right. He finished his tea as he continued to listen to her.

“You know,” Penelo continued, “I never thought of myself as someone who hates. I’m a good person, right? I raised orphans, I cured the wounded, I… _formed a community.”_ She smiled to herself, thinking of all her students and troupe members.

“But I guess… _everyone’s_ capable of hatred.” Penelo realized, and Larsa noticed her eyes had started to water. “I don’t want to feel this way anymore.” She closed her eyes. “I’m so tired…” she exhaled.

“And you don’t have to any longer.” Larsa smiled at her reassuringly. “By simply wishing it, you have already taken a necessary step towards letting go. I believe anything is possible. Just as anyone is capable of feeling hatred, I too believe anyone can let go of it – especially those who do good every day, just as you do.”

“Do you really believe that?”

“I do,” Larsa answered confidently.

“I’m sorry…” Penelo fought desperately to hold back more tears from flowing.

“For what?”

“I was so ready to hate you – when I realized you were one of them.” Penelo smiled and shook her head. “But I don’t – I don’t hate you.”

Larsa’s own eyes began to water. He was deeply touched by her words. She had every right to hate him. She had every right to fear him. But she didn’t, and he was honored.

“It may take a while before I can be comfortable around Archadians,” Penelo admitted, reaching across the table to hold his hand in hers. “But I _am_ comfortable with you. That’s a good start, right?” She smiled sheepishly at him and gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

Larsa returned the smile and answered with a simple nod.

Penelo had an idea. “Hey Lamont – do you wanna dance with me one more time?” she proposed.

“I would love to,” he answered, “But we haven’t any music?”

He watched Penelo’s smile form into a smirk. “Oh yes we do!” She let go of his hand and quickly stood up to retrieve something placed on top of her jewelry armoire. Larsa turned around to see her placing something on her hand.

A high-pitched _clink_ filled the room as Penelo turned around to face Larsa once again, a wide grin spread across her face. Her left arm was extended outwards to show off the two metal circles attached to her thumb and middle finger. Larsa recognized the traditional Dalmascan instrument.

“Finger cymbals?” Larsa stood up and walked over to Penelo, taking a closer look at them. “I suppose that’s all we really need, isn’t it?” he smiled, amused. Penelo swiftly clapped the cymbals two more times, then placed her free hand on Larsa’s shoulder and began the dance. She played the cymbals to the beat of the Archadian Waltz, slow and steady, unlike the Dalmascan beat they danced to earlier.

This dance was more… intimate, Penelo noticed. Maybe it was the slower pace - or the silence of her empty apartment. Or perhaps it was the dim candlelight that gently exposed the slight curve of Larsa’s smile, and the warmth of his gaze. His gaze that looked right into her soul, leaving her feeling understood.

She was dancing with a man from the country she feared her whole life. A man who worked for the very government that had the power to start another devastating war at any moment it wished. She had every reason to fear him, and yet…

With one last clap of the cymbals, Penelo slowed their waltz to a halt, and silence filled the air around them. She released her hand from Larsa’s shoulder and slid the cymbals off of her fingers, placing them on the jewelry armoire to her left. She smoothly snaked her hand around his neck, cradling the back of it. She looked into his eyes – blue and full of compassion. They held a bit of confusion in them now as he watched her gaze lower to his lips, and her eyelids fell heavy.

With her hand behind his neck, she slowly pulled him towards her and kissed him gently on the lips. When he returned her kiss, she could sense hesitation in him – perhaps he was inexperienced, Penelo thought. She decided to take the lead. She stood on her toes to meet his lips once more, kissing him more passionately now. She could feel his shoulders relax as he gladly followed.

Every part of Larsa’s mind told him to stop – to not allow this to continue without telling her the truth. He was the Emperor of the country she hates and fears. This was deceitful; this was wrong. But when she kissed him with such passion, care, and _trust_ – none of that mattered anymore. His title, his country, and his lineage: all of that washed away.

They were two people sharing a connection. And for just one night, Larsa wanted to forget he was the Emperor of Archadia.

\---

Light filled Larsa’s eyes as he regained consciousness. He took a deep breath, and his vision cleared. A beige ceiling. An unfamiliar room – or perhaps it was familiar? Larsa wasn’t sure. It was difficult to think with the slight pain blanketing his entire head. He yawned, instinctively bringing his hand up to cover his mouth. He lowered his hand to rest it on his chest. It was bare.

_Oh._

_That’s right,_ Larsa thought, and he swiftly turned his head to his right to confirm his memory. There she was, sleeping on her side, facing him. The young woman he met last night – Penelo. Her blonde hair, neatly tied up in braids the night before, was loose and tousled now. Her eye makeup was slightly smudged, and there was a relaxed smile on her lips. She looked so at peace…

Larsa’s heart began to race with guilt. How could he have let this happen? He made love to a woman without telling her his true name! His true identity…

He lied by omission. He _lied…_

This was not the kind of man he was raised to be. This was not the kind of man he wanted to be. He had to tell her the truth…

‘ _Should I wake her now?’_ he thought, and reached his hand towards her shoulder. _‘No.’_ He retreated his hand back to his side. ‘ _I don’t wish to disturb her sleep.’_

 _Perhaps,’_ he thought, ‘ _I could leave now, and she will never know the truth. She doesn’t need to know – does she? Is that not how these situations work? You make love one night then leave the next morning, never to see them again? Was there not a name for this?’_

He heard the sound of rustling blankets next to him and his heart jumped. It was Penelo turning to lay on her back, still asleep. He sighed in relief, closing his eyes. When he opened them again, he took the time to admire the features of Penelo’s face, beautiful and soft. His mind wandered to the night before – the moment they met. She was a bit cold, and kept her guard up. Over time she opened her mind and let her walls come down. It was a beautiful thing to witness. He didn’t want to be the reason for her to build her walls back up again. He didn’t want her to build more walls _at all._

Returning his gaze to the ceiling, he relaxed into the bed once again. He decided to stay.

A few minutes later, he heard a yawn, followed by a quiet, sleepy moan. He looked to see Penelo turning on her side, facing him again. Eyes half-open, she had a sleepy smile on her face. She was really happy to see him.

“Good morning,” she greeted. Her voice was faint and soothing.

Despite his worry, he couldn’t help but smile back at her. “Good morning, Penelo.” His voice was barely above a whisper.

“Did you sleep okay?” she asked.

He nodded. “Yes, I did.”

Penelo reached out to run her fingertips down his arm. “Well, I’m glad I could help with that,” she flirted, shooting him a smirk.

Larsa chuckled bashfully, and before he knew it, Penelo was scooting closer to him, resting her head on his chest and wrapping her arm around him. He instinctively wrapped his arm around her in return, giving her a gentle squeeze in embrace. This felt right; he was glad he stayed.

He could feel her tracing circles on his chest affectionately. “I had a really good time last night,” she spoke softly, “Did you?”

The guilt returning, Larsa couldn’t bear to look at her, or to answer her. He simply reached toward her and gently kissed her head, then returned his gaze to the ceiling. He made his decision – he could no longer hide the truth.

Penelo lifted her head to look at him. Her smile faded when she saw him failing to hide his worried expression. “What’s wrong?” she asked, surprisingly calm, “Do you regret what we did?” She asked it so casually, like this wasn’t the first time.

“Penelo,” Larsa breathed, sitting upright, and so did she. “There is something I need to tell you.”

“ _Wait,_ ” Penelo held her hand out, an amused look on her face. “Let me guess: you have a girlfriend back home, right?”

Larsa widened his eyes in confusion. “What? No…”

Penelo put her hand back down and rested it in her lap, confused. “Oh. Then what is it?”

Larsa inhaled deeply to calm his nerves. “I am afraid,” he exhaled, “that you will hate me when I tell you.”

Penelo looked amused. “Hate you? How could I ever hate you?”

Larsa looked down. Then, his eyes deviated towards his vest lying on the corner of the bed. “There is something I must show you.” He reached forward and retrieved the vest. Penelo watched him extract something from the inner pockets. He held it in his grasp for a moment, hesitating, debating with himself. Eventually, he reluctantly held it out for her to see. It was a shiny metal necklace, with a large pendant in the shape of two dragons intertwined.

“Do you recognize this symbol?” he asked.

Oh, she recognized it. She only saw it once in her life – when Vayne Solidor was appointed the consul of Dalmasca. She remembered how she felt that day – powerless and afraid. She hoped she would never see it again.

“Yes. I do.” She answered, trying to calm her breathing. She returned her gaze to him. “It’s the symbol of House Solidor. A necklace like that… could only belong to a member.”

Larsa’s heart was racing full speed. Was she going to make the connection on her own?

She looked at him suspiciously. “Lamont – just how close are you to the Emperor?”

 _Lamont,_ Larsa thought, and scoffed internally. Now he felt disgusted with himself when he heard her speak his alias – his lie.

 “…That is not my name!” he didn’t raise his voice, but the words burst out of him with no control. He could no longer hold in the truth. “I am no Lamont…” his voice was unsteady with fear, and he turned away from her.

Penelo was speechless, breathing heavily. She waited.

“You asked me how close I am with the Emperor,” he began, “and I am telling you that I am as close as anyone _can_ be… for he and I are one-and-the-same. I am no Lamont; that is a mere alias to protect my true identity…”

He turned his head to look at her once more. “I am Larsa Solidor. I am the Emperor of the nation you fear and hate so much… and I am sorry.” He tried so hard to fight back his tears. Crying would serve no purpose here. He was powerful, he was privileged, and there was no feeling sorry for him - not from her, not from himself.

He held eye contact with Penelo as he mentally prepared himself for the worst…

But she didn’t look angry. She was just staring at him, processing the information. Larsa couldn’t stand the ambiguity. “Please say something…” he pleaded. He noticed she was holding the sheets more tightly to her chest than she was before. He looked away.

“If you hate me, I understand. And if I have lost your trust – oh who am I fooling? Of course I have lost your trust, I…” he stopped his rant when he felt Penelo gently place her hand on his. He looked up her, confused.

“Larsa…” she said softly, adjusting to his true name, “Finally – I feel like I know you.” She smiled warmly at him. “Last night, I felt like you were holding something back – now I know.”

She looked at him for a moment, evaluating him. “So you’re not kidding…” and when he continued to look at her wide-eyed while shaking his head ‘no’, she smiled even wider. “So this is the Emperor of Archadia, huh?”

Larsa darted his eyes away from her, then back. “What do you think of him now?” he asked shyly.

Penelo contemplated her answer for a moment as she took a deep breath. “I don’t hate him,” she exhaled, “And I _do_ trust him.”

Larsa looked at her in awe. “ _How?”_

“I was wrong about him,” she continued, “He’s nothing like his brother; he wouldn’t hurt anyone.” And when she noticed he continued to look at her in disbelief, she scooted closer to him, hanging her legs off the edge of the bed as he did.

“You’re the same man I met last night, right?” Penelo questioned, “You’re the man who danced with me, and drank with me?”

Larsa chuckled at the memory of his first drink, and Penelo smiled with him.

“And,” Penelo continued, “You’re the man who earned Vaan’s trust – which is not an easy thing to do, by the way. Vaan feels the same way about Archadia as I do. And what you told me – about your brothers - that was true, right?”

Larsa nodded.

“And when you made love to me,” Penelo brought her face close to his, glancing at his lips before returning her gaze to his eyes, “that came from a place of honesty, right?”

“Of course,” he answered, smiling warmly at her before giving her a kiss on the nose.

Penelo tilted her head to the side and returned his smile. “Then that’s all that matters.”

Larsa blinked a few times. He couldn’t believe it – he was speechless.

“But Larsa,” she continued, “I want you to promise me one thing.”

Larsa’s heart skipped a beat. “Anything,” he breathed.

Penelo locked eyes with him, her gaze intense. “Lead Archadia in the right direction,” she commanded, “The people of Ivalice need you to. _I_ need you to.” The last line was more of a plea, Larsa noticed, as Penelo’s eyes began to water.

Larsa gently took her hand in both of his. “Penelo, I promise this to you: I will dedicate my life to see that you, and all people, are kept from harm. It is my duty to House Solidor, Archadia, and all of Ivalice.”

Penelo exhaled, and closed her eyes. “Thank you.”

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by the song "Take Your Time" by Sam Hunt
> 
> Other songs I consider part of the unofficial soundtrack for this fic:  
> "Wildfire" by Marie Digby  
> "Cheyenne" by Jason Derulo covered by RUNAGROUND


End file.
